


Ogeda

by LingeringLilies



Series: Soft Sin [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Eye Contact, F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Messy Bottom Lexa, PWP, Simultaneous Orgasm, Sweet Sex, Tribadism, a tiny bit of quickly-resolved angst, hand holding, i write sins not trajedies, it's so fluffy i wanna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6813442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LingeringLilies/pseuds/LingeringLilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is worried she's not exciting enough in bed, so she tries something new. It doesn't go as she'd hoped, but what happens instead is even better.</p><p>From this anon prompt:</p><p>"When Clexa has sex it's amazing. It's all great. But Lexa always wants to be so good for Clarke that it builds a little angst for Lexa because she knows she's less experienced. She knows Clarke is a very sexual human being. Lexa is more sensual but she tries so hard to find a primal side to give to Clarke but she can't. When Clarke realizes this insecurity, she responds by holding Lexa's hand the entire time while making love, showing her this is perfect."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ogeda

Lexa is a mess under Clarke. Panting, whining, squirming, desperate. She would be embarrassed if she weren’t so blissed out. Clarke can work her up so easily, reduce her to this with only a few minutes of attention to even unsuspecting parts of her body. Tonight it’s the crook of Lexa’s elbow, the inside of her wrist, and the arch of her throat.

First, Clarke uses her tongue, firm and hot, followed by the gentle scraping of teeth, making Lexa feel like her skin is tissue paper covering everything Clarke is intent on setting off. By the time Clarke moves her mouth between Lexa’s legs, Lexa feels consumed, devoured from head to toe, never so happy to be chewed up in the name of pleasure. She lifts herself into Clarke’s mouth, begging for release.

Clarke only backs her away from the edge a few times. Each time she retreats, Lexa whines, growing more agitated and desperate, even growing so bold as to ask out loud for Clarke to let her come.

“Please, Clarke... _Please_... Just let me...”

It’s that bad, and Clarke’s raw delight in her thrashing body is animal. She smirks, spurred on by Lexa’s desperation, until Lexa feels all but delirious with need.

Finally, Clarke lets her come.

Lexa twists and bends and shakes through it, her breath halting, a few obscene whines flying out of her mouth before she can catch them. Clarke is smug, grinning into her, tongue unrelenting.

Lexa’s relief is only momentary. Clarke’s appetite for her leaves her overwhelmed when Clarke doesn’t stop. She twists, pushing Clarke’s head away, brow furrowing as she whimpers and shivers. Clarke is still wild and hungry as she roams up Lexa’s stomach, kissing the quivering muscles there, stopping to lap at each of Lexa’s nipples, at which Lexa again has to push her away. It’s too much, she can’t settle, and Clarke’s hunger for her seems like it can’t be sated.

Finally, Clarke is stilled for a moment, and Lexa is able to sink into their bed, exhausted and panting, reaching for something to hold. In a moment of tenderness, Clarke lays down beside her and slips her hand into Lexa’s, and that calms Lexa better than anything else. Lexa exhales in relief, opening her eyes. She’s almost surprised to find herself in their room; she thought for sure she’d been flung into the sky.

Clarke grins at her, face glistening and smug. Lexa gives a tired smile back before tucking her head against Clarke’s chest. Ear pressed to her damp skin, she can hear Clarke’s heart beating. Though Clarke’s body is still, her heart betrays her excitement at being pressed against Lexa’s naked body.

Lexa breathes while she can. Clarke is giving her a few minutes to breathe before they dive back in. Lexa would be content to fall asleep, but Clarke’s heartbeat indicates she’s not satisfied by just one release for each of them. Lexa thought she was getting a head start by pleasuring Clarke first tonight, but she should know by now Clarke is always set off by Lexa’s release.

They’re so different in their approach to lovemaking. It’s almost as if Clarke had been the one to grow up roaming the forest, absorbing its wildness, while Lexa had been trapped in unmoving space, surprised by even the smallest unexpected thing.

Lexa wonders what's it's like to crave someone in the way Clarke seems to crave her, to let her body take over so completely. She desires Clarke, of course. Deeply and wholly. But she is often awestruck by Clarke’s intensity, disbelieving that she could incite such response from someone as practiced as Clarke. She wants to meet that part of Clarke, to feel she is an equal in their private endeavors. But she's had so little experience, and if she's honest, she's never craved Clarke in such an animal way. The way she desires Clarke is more aching, more permanently seeded in her chest than anywhere else in her body. When they touch, something in her hums, but it never growls or comes lashing out in a bite. At the very most, there's a purr.

She wonders if her little purr will be enough to excite Clarke as time goes by. On the nights she is too tired or brooding to satisfy Clarke's ever-present hunger, she is kept awake with worry that she's boring her lover. Perhaps Clarke is disappointed her ability to command falls away with her clothes and the touch of Clarke's lips. Perhaps she will lose Clarke because she is so reserved and uncertain. The thought makes her so distressed, the effects of her release all but vanish. She’s frantic to secure Clarke to her permanently.

She rallies her strength and rolls against Clarke, giving her best attempt at a wicked smirk, kissing her hungrily. Clarke rises up to her, trying to roll her over, but Lexa presses her down, managing to exert a bit of force in keeping Clarke pinned to the bed. Lexa climbs wholly on top of her, determined to project the same confidence Clarke has in bed.

She covers Clarke’s face and neck and chest in sucking kisses, trying to capture Clarke’s hunger. It isn’t difficult, but it doesn’t come naturally to her. She second-guesses how much pressure to use, wondering if Clarke would be irritated by any accidental marks on her soft pink skin, wondering if Clarke knows why she’s doing this.

Clarke seems content for the moment, hands drifting over Lexa’s back, sighing happily under her. She doesn’t seem to be getting any more worked up. If anything, she seems to be settling, soothed by Lexa’s efforts rather than excited.

Lexa wants so badly to be good for Clarke, to show she’s capable of keeping Clarke guessing when she tries. She wants to make her next move new and interesting. She thinks about something Clarke might do and takes a risk.

She runs her nails up the inside of Clarke's thigh. It’s not rough. She doubts there will be any marks. But it feels daring.

Clarke exhales in appreciation, so Lexa tries again on the other side. She has to force herself to increase the pressure. She’s worried she won't be able to gauge the line between what feels good and what hurts, but she tries anyway. Clarke gasps in surprise, hands stiffening against Lexa’s back.

Lexa latches onto Clarke’s neck with her lips again, trying to consume her. Spurred on by Clarke’s reaction, she lifts her hand away, wrapping her arm around Clarke’s back, and makes another scratch, her boldest and deepest yet. She drags along the flesh, leaving an angry red trail, bits of dry skin collected under her nails. She nips the skin of Clarke’s neck with her teeth, then hisses, hoping it sounds aroused rather than the knee-jerk apology it really is.

Clarke freezes and stiffens, her arousal plummeting. Her eyes fly open and she inhales, startled. They’re both frozen for a moment and Lexa surges with anxiety.

Lexa realizes she's derailed their whole evening. She starts to curl into herself with shame.

Clarke lets out a breath, turning toward Lexa, nudging her chin up with her own. She draws Lexa’s arm out from where it's wrapped around her back as she nuzzles into Lexa’s tucked face, seeking out soft, delicate kisses that have nothing in common with the deep, sucking ones Lexa was giving her before.

Clarke lifts Lexa's hand and kisses along her knuckles. She looks into Lexa's eyes with a stern, meaningful expression.

“You don't have to do that,” Clarke whispers.

Lexa nods, shame sweeping over her as she receives Clarke’s kisses.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers back.

“Don’t be sorry,” Clarke hushes. “Just…” She fades off, drawing Lexa’s arm back around her gently. She gives Lexa the most tender look Lexa has ever seen, and though she doesn’t say it, Lexa hears, _Be soft._

Lexa melts onto Clarke, relieved and even deeper in love with her than she had been a minute ago.

She doesn't have to try be anything she's not. Clarke loves her _this_ way: tender and careful and soft.

It never occurred to Lexa that Clarke might like that most about her.

Lexa nods, leaning down to show Clarke just how soft she can be. She brushes her lips over Clarke’s cheeks and jaw, drifting down her neck as her hands smooth over Clarke’s body, touching her as tenderly and reverently as she can.

With all the intention she has, she spreads her gentleness over Clarke’s skin. She kisses where her lips almost drew bruises moments ago, traces apologies with her fingers where she scratched. She blends herself into Clarke as best she can.

Clarke wants her gentleness and Lexa has never felt so boundless in her ability to give.

Though Clarke’s muscles go soft beneath her, she can feel Clarke’s pulse start to pick up. It’s amazing to her that this is what excites Clarke. She could lay draped over Clarke all night if that’s what it took to be good enough and soft enough. 

Lexa’s hands cup Clarke’s cheeks, grace over her shoulders, alight on her breasts, hold the small of her waist. She relishes their kissing most of all; in moments like these, it’s such an intimate act, it almost feels sacred.

Clarke’s breathing grows deep and measured when Lexa’s fingers trace her nipples. Lexa feels Clarke rise and fall beneath her. She shifts onto Clarke’s thigh and drags two fingers down Clarke’s abdomen, watching the soft give of her flesh. She circles for a moment in the delicate skin between her hipbones, then leans forward to connect their mouths as her fingers dip into Clarke.

Lexa feels Clarke’s breath shiver across her cheek as Clarke exhales through her nose, relieved for the contact. She stays close as she draws Clarke up, watching the little shifts in her face. She’s always been so anxiously fixated on figuring out the magic combination to unlock Clarke, she hasn’t taken time to study Clarke’s face. Though her breath is rising and falling, her muscles shivering and clenching in waves, Clarke’s face is the most active part of her body. Lexa can’t believe she never realized how her lips and brows and eyes move, tiny reactions that tell her everything she needs to know.

It’s amazing how little changes in the way she moves her fingers inside Clarke are reflected in her face. Lexa can see exactly what Clarke likes and wants more of. Her confidence grows, as does her wonder that she can provide so much to Clarke with so little effort. For the first time, she experiences her tenderness as power.

She feels herself start to quicken and warm between her legs. It’s unusual for her to think of a second round without Clarke suggesting it. She shifts on Clarke’s leg, realizing too late that Clarke can tell she’s turned on again. It’s a little embarrassing, but Lexa also knows Clarke adores it. Clarke lets out a soft grunt of amused satisfaction.

“Look who’s ready to go again…” Clarke says, voice husky and uneven with arousal.

Lexa feels a surge of arousal amidst the swell of embarrassment. “Shh,” she hushes. She stares down at Clarke’s miraculous face, drawing through her, trying to quiet the ache between her legs.

“Go ahead, babe,” Clarke says.

Lexa tries to quiet her by kissing her, to which Clarke responds by placing her hands on Lexa’s hips, encouraging her to rub herself along Clarke’s thigh.

Lexa breaks the kiss, breath shivering between them, using her free hand to push one of Clarke’s hands away as she tucks her face into the dark, hot spot between Clarke’s neck and the pillow. She mumbles something Clarke can’t understand.

“What?”

Lexa lifts her face just enough to be heard, still mumbling. “I won’t be able to concentrate.”

Clarke shakes with tender laughter. “Concentrate on me later.”

Lexa shakes her head and kisses Clarke’s neck, adding just a little more force to the movement of her fingers inside Clarke. She closes her eyes and gets lost there, feeling the most secret part of Clarke, the part that is softest and most delicate, the part that she reserves for Lexa and Lexa only. Lexa doesn’t worship Clarke like this enough, letting her know how singular she is, how honored Lexa is to be entrusted with Clarke’s heart.

Lexa feels a groan vibrate in her throat and realizes she’s turned the movement of her arm into a whole-body movement that includes her hips. She’s rutting against Clarke’s slicked-up thigh after all. She freezes, opening her eyes, fixing her attention on Clarke. This is supposed to be about satisfying her as best she can. She lost focus for a minute.

She tries to compensate. “Do you want my mouth?”

Clarke gives a little shake of her head. “Keep going,” she pants. “Feels good.”

Lexa lifts her head and keeps up the steady pace of her fingers inside Clarke, watching Clarke’s face as she forces her hips to stay rigid and still.

Clarke’s hands find her hips again, encouraging her. “Keep going.”

Whatever embarrassment Lexa feels at her body’s natural impulse is neutralized by the fact that Clarke likes it. She rocks her hips tentatively, feeling her excitement build even as she argues again, “I won’t be able to concentrate.”

“Sure you can,” Clarke says, eyes closing again as Lexa keeps her fingers beckoning inside her. She lets out an aroused breath and Lexa feels her own breath lose its steadiness.

She doesn’t know if she can keep an sort of rhythm or focus. The combination of Clarke’s growing tension and her own is almost too much already. When Clarke slips one hand around Lexa’s waist and uses the other to start toying with her nipple, Lexa squeaks with the sudden surge between her legs. She rocks faster against Clarke’s thigh, speeding up her hand as she does, feeling herself start to shake.

She moves her hips without reservation now, eager for the friction Clarke’s skin provides. She gives herself over to it, allowing herself the pleasure Clarke gives so generously. Once she allows herself to feel, there is no limit to the joy she takes in loving Clarke.

Clarke smiles and Lexa shuts her eyes for a moment, wondering if she can steady herself by removing the visual of Clarke blissed out beneath her, face betraying every tiny pleasure she’s experiencing at Lexa’s hand. But it has the opposite effect, and Lexa feels herself start to swim in the darkness, unmoored and approaching release too quickly. Clarke starts to clench around her fingers and Lexa doesn’t trust herself to keep the rhythm and pressure of her hand steady enough to see Clarke through. She opens her eyes, her arousal starting to peak as she’s flooded with the visual of Clarke approaching release: brow knit in desperation, shoulders tense, lips parted in preparation, head tilted back.

Lexa feels herself at the same place.

“Clarke,” she chokes out. “I want…”

“I’m close too.”

“Can you-”

Clarke reaches for her free hand blindly, and Lexa clings to it. But she wants one more thing.

“ _Clarke_ ,” she gasps again.

Clarke’s eyes fly open, pupils blown and locking with hers, and that’s when her breath is stolen from her, body going rigid as Clarke bows beneath her, squeezing her fingers tightly together, crying out. Lexa could swallow the sound, she is suddenly so void of thought and awareness other than Clarke under and around and with her.

They are suspended for what could be minutes, but it will never be long enough. To feel that weightlessness, that release, that ecstasy, and to know that for the first time Clarke feels it in the exact same moment is nothing short of divine. She squeezes Clarke’s hand, rolling forward a few more times to extend the feeling, drawing through Clarke again and again, locked into release together.

Clarke breaks through on the other side first, gasping and clutching at Lexa as she finishes, eyes straining wider to avoid letting go. Lexa pants and stares, wide-eyed and disbelieving, until the last pulse courses through her and everything is still but their breathing. They stay there for a long moment, trying to catch their breath, until at last Clarke smiles.

The smile flares into Lexa and she curls forward, kissing Clarke. It's celebratory and alive.

“What was that about you not being able to concentrate?” Clarke teases softly.

Lexa hushes her with more soft kisses, feeling herself start to loosen and pool over Clarke.

They kiss for a long time, slow and gentle and languid. Lexa doesn’t let go of Clarke’s hand even when Clarke tries to let go to sweep Lexa’s hair out of her face. Instead they brush it aside together, and Lexa brings Clarke’s hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles. Clarke mirrors her, kissing Lexa’s fingers, smiling, until Lexa is too tired and happy to even hold her head up.

She rolls to the side, hair pooling on the pillow as Clarke follows her onto her side. They lay there in stillness, smiling, until their eyes droop closed.

Lexa knows she has nothing to worry about.

Still, she holds Clarke’s hand until morning.


End file.
